Torchtrail
by the.write.way.42
Summary: A negative spike in Rift activity in the middle of a field outside Cardiff leads to the team ending up just outside Independence, Missouri in 1848. Now, they must travel along the Oregon Trail and hope that, somehow, they can find a way back. Crackfic.


Disclaimer: I own neither Torchwood, nor Oregon Trail. Well, I _own _Oregon Trail, but not like that. Sadly.

This was an idea my friends and I came up with when we were playing an Oregon Trail game using Torchwood characters last year (why yes, we _are _in college. How nice of you to ask!) On request, I promised to write a fic of this…last year…and am just now getting around to it…I've actually started a new OT game and will be using the game log as a guide as I write the fic. More to come!

"Alright kids, shape up! The Rift has something for us!" Jack's voice could be heard booming throughout the Hub as he stuck his head out from his office and yelled down to the lower level. "Let's get moving! I want the whole team on this one."

Grumbling halfheartedly-it was late, and the general consensus had been that it was just about time to knock off and head over to the pubs for a drink or three-the team gathered up their gear, securing guns in holsters and switching on their coms. A few minutes later they had piled into the SUV, Jack behind the wheel. "Buckle up," he grinned at them, as he reversed haphazardly and sped off out of the parking lot like a crazed undead alien out of hell which, let's face it, he pretty much was.

"We've been getting bizarre readings from a field just outside Cardiff," Jack explained. "There's been quite a bit of activity there. We haven't gotten any complaints from locals around the area, so we're not sure what exactly is coming through. It's probably benign enough if it's going unnoticed.

After an uneventful half hour, Jack began to slow down. "It should be somewhere around here," he muttered.

"Over there!" Tosh pointed out the window to a stretch of grassland. There was an indistinct shape lying unmoving in the distance. Jack pulled off onto the shoulder and the team climbed out, guns drawn. They made their way through the high, uncut grass to where Tosh had pointed. As they neared, the shape became clearer.

"Is that…" Gwen began, and Owen cut her off.

"Yup. That would be a wagon." They all stared at the canvas covered wagon, lying on its side, front wheel still spinning, back wheel broken off. Ianto put his arm in front of Jack to stop him from going any further, and pointed.

"People. Bodies." Thumbing off the safety, Ianto held his gun out warily and approached the prone bodies. The two bodies-one male, one female, both around his age-were pale, thin-almost emaciated-and covered in a rose-colored rash. Already knowing the answer, Ianto checked the pulses of both to confirm, then stepped back. "Dead."

"Uh…Jack?" Tosh's voice was tinged with anxiety. "Remember Jonah Bevan? The spikes of negative Rift activity? We wrote them off as aftershock before we discovered the Rift was taking them?"

"What about it, Toshiko?" Jack asked gruffly, still surveying the wagon distractedly .

"It's happening again. Now. Here." Tosh held out the small handheld monitor. Jack peered at it, then back at the wagon, and swore. As Tosh had been speaking, a small ripple of distorted energy had begun to appear over the wagon, and was growing steadily. Before Jack's eyes it expanded, forming a portal. On the other side they could see an expanse of land, dry and barren, and in the distance, what looked like a town.

"Run," Jack ordered, his voice serious, but they were too late. No sooner had they turned to flee than they all felt the tug of the Rift, a brief moment of pressure, the rush of air, and then no sound at all. Like a vacuum, the Rift pulled them in. Everything went black, and when the team could see again they were lying on their backs in dust and dirt and staring up at the sky.

Ianto was the first to rise, raising a hand to brush off his suit. As he did so, he looked down. In place of his nice pressed pants and coat were a leather vest and chaps, and a pair of absolutely ridiculous boots adorned his feet. "…Bollocks."


End file.
